Dancing with the Past
by Scout Girl
Summary: The Doctor has just lost Rose. So what happens when the TARDIS takes him into a journey with himself. 9 and 10. Written by Let'sDoTheTimeWarpAgain and myself. It's a joint effort. Read and review.
1. Prologue 9

We own none of this story, neither Let'sDoTheTimeWarpAgain or Scout Girl will get any money out of this so please Read and Review

Dancing with the Past

The Doctor crouched down under the TARDIS console, shaking his head violently to get rid of this oddness.  
He didn't know what was going on with him. He thought that he could hear things in his head, like something telepathic was going on but what it was exactly he couldn't quite make out. It was like eavesdropping a conversation which was going on in very low voices from the other side of the wall.  
He shook his head once more and stood up from underneath the TARDIS console, hitting his head on the edge of it as he rose.  
"Fantastic!" he mumbled sarcastically, rubbing the back of his bruised head.  
A quickly stifled giggle came from the other side of the console room and the Doctor spun around quickly, still rubbing his head.  
From across the console, and through the blue green light, the Doctor could see that Rose Tyler was standing across the room, wearing a white shirt and a pair of jeans. Needless to say in the light, the white looked the same colour as the light which was casting shadows and the jeans looked... well, just like jeans, he decided quickly.  
Her face was looking different, oddly enough. No, hang on. It wasn't her normal face... well, not face, expression. It was more of a... pleading expression.  
"Rose," the Doctor began, raising his eyebrows. "What do you want?"  
Rose slumped and walked over to him, poking him in the back with a slight smile.  
"Is it that obvious?"  
He grabbed hold of her wrist to stop her prodding him. "Yes, it is Rose," he replied evenly, fixing her with his light blue stare. "What do you want?"  
Rose gave a sigh then looked him straight in the eye, still smiling. "All right. I give up. No fooling you and your non-human non-stupid ape brain..."  
"Rose..."  
She rolled her eyes with a good-natured grin. "Can we go and see my mum?"  
The Doctor groaned audibly. Rose raised her spare hand, giving him a small, playful slap.  
"That is why I groan at the thought of going and seeing your mother," he replied. "She always slaps me!"  
He cradled his face with his hand dramatically.  
"Please?" she asked, flicking her hair back and staring at him with her most innocent look. She smiled. "Pretty please? Pretty pretty pretty please?"  
The Doctor sighed and walked around the console, tapping in the information that the TARDIS needed to get to the Powell Estate. "Very we-"  
His head began to pound and the console swam before him. He held out a hand to steady himself, pleased to see that Rose hadn't seen him swoon because she had been looking around the console. Good.  
The TARDIS engines ground into action.  
Rose looked over to the Doctor, smiling happily. In return the Doctor gave a manic grin, looking at the screen in surprise as the TARDIS jolted suddenly and the engines quietened abruptly.  
He swore under his breath in Gallifreyan, eyes widening.  
Great.  
"Rose, we're not at the Powell Estate," he said grimly. "You're not going to see your mother. Don't know why..."  
He gulped. "For some reason, we're in York."

Writen by Scout Girl and Let'sDoTheTimeWarpAgain

BETAed by Let'sDoTheTimeWarpAgain and Scout Girl

(nifty hey)

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	2. Prologue 10

We own none of this story, neither Let'sDoTheTimeWarpAgain or Scout Girl will get any money out of this so please Read and Review 

Dancing with the Past

She was gone. She was truly, utterly and completely gone.  
Every corner of the TARDIS seemed to remind him of her- a hairbrush in the bathroom with blonde strands of hair still in it, clothes in the wardrobe, romance novels in the library. Every single corner of the ship.  
Was she trying to subconsciously punish him for not doing more, for letting her stay with him? The Doctor wished for a distraction. Any distraction, big or small, as long as it meant he could think on his feet and not focus on the past, so he could look to the future- well, the present at the very least- and not drown in memories, memories, memories.  
And now, as he stood at the controls of the TARDIS in an empty console room, he sighed, the small sigh echoing slightly, almost mocking him, though there was no point, because there was no one to hear that sigh: there was no one to comfort him, no one to even tell him to shut up and stop moping, apart from that little voice in the corner of his mind, and of course that didn't count.  
He needed to go somewhere, anywhere, somewhere to stop this tedium, this pity, this grieving... but why was he grieving? Rose was still alive! She hadnt been sucked into the void she was alive. He should be happy, he should be glad she was doing the one thing he could never do, living a normal life. She could get a job, get married...  
His stomach lurched.  
She could have children; live out a life that was meant to be, because it was natural, because it was human, because that's what she was meant to do in the laws of the human race. Grandchildren, maybe.  
His stomach lurched again. Deep down, he knew exactly why he was grieving, and knew that it all laid in those three little words he'd never been able to say to her. Why not? Why couldn't he? Gallifrey was gone, gone, blown to smithereens, so what did it matter? What did one human girl matter? He knew the answer to that too, and in a far, far away part of his mind he was able to say it honestly: he had loved her. Loved her in a way that he hadn't loved Gallifrey, which sounded awful, one human over his race.. He'd had time to say goodbye to Gallifrey, said goodbye to it as he stood disconsolately clutching at the ashes which burned, before the grinding sound came to him and then when he woke up...  
...But with her he hadn't been able to say goodbye. Not properly. Not in the way he have liked to. And that was what cut him up.  
Steering his thoughts away from that, he turned his attention to the console, drawing his brown trench coat more tightly around him, like a shield, like the armour that he had made the leather jacket. Like the armour which only Rose could get through. Rose.  
She wouldn't want him to grieve for her, just as he wouldn't want her to grieve for him. But he knew she would be. Or at least he thought so. He did know her very well, he had to admit. But the point was, neither wanted the other grieving... or did they?  
Too many thoughts.  
Thoughts and memories played in his mind, like a shortened down video tape: Rose smiling at him that Christmas which had seemed oh-so-long ago now, the first time she'd seen him in his new suit. Running for their lives together, sitting, talking happily on the apple grass of the fifteenth New York. Being knighted. Her dismay at Sarah Jane, and Reinette... the look of pure joy on her face after he'd confronted the beast... and the look of pure despair and devastation upon her face as he'd tried to say goodbye to her in Bad Wolf Bay. He could feel the tears on his face again...  
Raising a hand, he wiped them away.

Too. Many. Thoughts.  
"Come on, then!" he proclaimed in as cheery a tone as he could, staring down at the familiar controls with a little more enthusiasm than what he'd been able to muster previously.

"We'll go somewhere, eh? Just you and me, and we'll rest for once, maybe even cloud-watch together, what do you say to that?"  
The lights glowed green reassuringly and the Doctor smiled, one of the first true smiles he'd smiled for days. That was better, he thought happily. Good. Smiling. Now he just had to keep that smile...  
He was glad of the TARDIS, ever glad of her presence in his mind. It stopped him from thinking too much, from feeling too much...  
Clang.  
Famous last words, he thought with a grimace as the TARDIS gave a lurch and he plunged headfirst into the creamy coloured casing which bordered the bottom of the Time Rotor. Ouch. Now he was feeling, feeling a pain in his head. Thanks to her.  
So much for that, then.  
But why had she done that? Why had she lurched so suddenly?  
Looking down, he raised an eyebrow, one hand to his head, and nodded, although it hurt to a little, suddenly understanding.  
He'd been unaware of the fact that his hands had wandered automatically to the controls and the levers, and in fact, he'd been setting a course without his knowing. He peered at it closely. Hmm. To Brighton. Why Brighton? Why not... Mars or something? Brighton was hardly somewhere quiet...  
"Never mind then, eh?" He muttered the question, standing up straight this time and not allowing his thoughts to wander.  
He didn't want to be mistaken for a purple foreheaded Fluvon, seeing as though they had a particularly... enchanting... habit of pouncing on their fellows in what was thought to be an affectionate way. Wherever he ended up.  
Especially Brighton.

_Something's up..._

His head was spinning. That... almost psychic feeling...

_Something's not righ_t...

It was familiar...

The TARDIS was lurching, dipping, swerving, and he was dimly aware of it, though his head was bothering more.  
"Stop!" he ordered, snapping back to himself, darting around the console, pushing buttons, winding levers.  
But she wouldn't stop.  
"What's gotten into..."  
He trailed off, his voice fading as his head began to spin again.  
Then, as suddenly as it came, it went.  
No spinning. The TARDIS was back to normal.  
Her engines were perfectly still, perfectly stable. And she'd landed reasonably well, he thought, getting up off the floor.  
"White knuckle ride was not what I needed," he said with a grin as he switched the screen on.  
His grin froze, eyes widening. Dread lurched into his stomach, and an encounter came back to him, an encounter in his previous self with a man in a pinstripe suit who had stared at Rose in such a way it had made him shiver.  
No...

He was in York.

Writen by Scout Girl and Let'sDoTheTimeWarpAgain

BETAed by Let'sDoTheTimeWarpAgain and Scout Girl

(nifty hey)

Please Read and Review


	3. Pondering

We still own nothing of Doctor Who, nothing at all. Please read and review.

Dancing with the Past

He was in York. YORK! The place he least wanted to be in. Why now? He thought desperately, pulling at his ruffled hair in agitation. Why now, when the pain was so raw, so fresh, when it hurt so much to even think of her? He leant against the console for support, taking deep, steadying breaths. "You've got to do it," he told himself sternly, straightening up, straightening his coat, smoothing out the lapels. "You can do it." And with that, he set off at a determined walk towards the doors.

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"This is useful," the voice with the London accent proclaimed. "I promised mum that I'd go and see her when I could, and we end up in flipping York! Why York?" The Doctor hunched his shoulders over the TARDIS console, trying to work out what was up with her. All he got in way of a response was a creak of the doors as they opened." Well, come on," he said slowly. "Get your mum a present seeing as we're here. TARDIS won't budge. Business here to be finished." Rose looked over at him, frowning. "Not another alien invasion by any chance?" For once the Doctor looked puzzled. "Nah. Well. She won't say. Come on!" And with that he walked out the doors. He was soon followed by Rose, who was walking after him less than enthusiastically.

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_You can do it. You can do it. You can face her._

_It might not even be her!_

"Of course it's her," the Doctor muttered, closing his eyes and stopping for a minute, halfway en route to the doors. "Of course it is. It's got to be... how could it not?"

_Quite easily..._

He sighed, looking older than ever as he peered at the doors sadly. "Only one way to find out, eh? And nothing about the future. Remember that. Nothing at all. They can't even know who you are. Well, he can. She can't. One slip, no talking too much..." he rambled, the sound of his voice giving him the courage to open the door of the TARDIS, look around furtively and squint in the shadows of the old buildings and narrow streets which were silent in the half-light of the evening. "Nothing. Nothing at all," he repeated, then smiled to himself grimly, walking on, for the night was cold.

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_You can do it. You can do it. You can face her._

_It might not even be her!_

_Quite easily. . . _

"Rose, will you be quiet a minute?" The Doctor rubbed his head as he spoke, frowning. It was back again: That psychic, telepathic feeling that he had had earlier. It was back, but he could hear the conversation clearly now. It wasn't so much a conversation: it was more of a one sided argument, and he was sure he'd heard that voice before, like he would know it. Should know it. Like he had known it, like he had always known it. Like it was part of him. Something was going on in his head. He could sense it; it was like tiny ripples in the air, ripples that he could remember, ripples he could remember... from the future. He shook his head to attempt to clear it. "Doctor?" asked a confused voice, but this one he definitely knew. Rose. "Doctor are you alright? You went sort of funny... like you were in a daze or where about to pass out of something..." The Doctor shook his head again. "Me?" he asked. "I'm fine. I was thinking, that's all."Rose giggled again like she had done in the TARDIS. "What is so funny?" The Doctor asked, a manic grin etching itself on his features. "It's obvious you don't think that often then!" Rose blurted out. The Doctor shook his head for the third time before linking arms with Rose. "Come on. We've got York to explore.!"

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He could hear voices now. And they weren't in his head, or at least he thought not. His head! It was acting up again, and this was annoying him. Was he exhausted? Seemed unlikely. He didn't need a lot of sleep. Maybe just too many thoughts...He felt heady, as though he'd just gone and ordered five hundred Hyper-Vodkas and drank the lot. Well, actually, if he had, he'd be feeling worse. A lot worse. Maybe half a dozen hyper-vodka, then. He was getting nearer. He could feel his mind beginning to strain, expand, and he could feel the pain in his chest tightening, and it had nothing to do with the icy air he was breathing in quickly. He shivered. Not out of cold, but out of anticipation, and out of more than a little trepidation. He hadn't been the nicest of people when he'd came across this apparent lunatic back in his ninth self. "Oh, come on, it's only yourself," he said quietly, turning a corner and stopping dead at the sight of two figures walking with interlinked arms. He knew them both well- one with the shaved hair, piercing blue eyes and large ears, and the other the blonde woman with a smile that would light up his life if he could just see it again.They looked happy. Companionable.

Almost as though they were in love.

Writen by Scout Girl and Let'sDoTheTimeWarpAgain

BETAed by Let'sDoTheTimeWarpAgain and Scout Girl

Please Read and Review. Pretty Please (Scout Girl will send you a red wine gum, contact Let'sDoTheTimeWarpAgain if you don't get the joke )


	4. Reactions

We still don't own Doctor Who, only your reviews, please.

Dancing with the Past

The Doctor gulped and looked at the couple.

A few minutes before his head had been full of what he was going to do but now his legs were jelly and his hearts were beating fit to burst.

"Rose," he whispered to himself.

"It's my Rose." No, no. Not his Rose. She was still his past self's Rose. She still had the pain and the heartbreak of his regeneration to go through, she still had... oh, it was endless.

Nevertheless, he held out his hand and was shocked to see that it was shaking.

"Pull yourself together!" He muttered. The couple were looking at him curiously now. Oh great. The nutter who talked to himself. "That's Rose, he's you, you're him! Get on with it!"

The man in the leather jacket frowned, scrutinising this stranger who walked towards them, noticing the way his eyes roved, the tear streaks that ran down his face, the way he hadn't looked like he'd brushed his hair for at least a week, or maybe that was the style, and the way he was speaking to himself.

"Rose," he said quickly, tightening his grip on her and steering her quickly around.

The suited man spotted the two figures turning around and sighed.

"Oops," he muttered, running a hand through his messy, untamed hair. "Oh. Well. No time like the present. Or the past. Or the future... or.. oh, just get on with it," he sighed, walking on.

--------

Rose looked over her shoulder, seeing a tallish, middle aged man walking behind them. She looked into his eyes for the briefest of moments, and shivered. Those eyes seemed to hold a thousand memories, a thousand regrets... so similar to...

"Rose, COME ON!"

The Northern accent broke through her thoughts and she found herself following the Doctor, frowning as he pulled her along.

"Can't even go for a walk without a nutter following us."

"What?" she asked, looking back over her shoulder to see that the man had picked up his pace.

"I said-"

He drew to a halt, squaring his leather clad shoulder, pushing her back slightly, walking towards the pinstripe suited man.

"Look," he began bluntly, folding his arms and leaning back, a grim smile on his face in the confident, cocksure stance she'd began to recognize as a danger sign. Uh oh.

"Ah." The suited man took a step back, as though fearful he would be pounced upon, attacked, or just slapped.

"You can ah all you want," the Doctor said, a false smile upon his face. "But really. Stop following us, mate, alright?"

The younger man chanced a look at Rose, who was thinking hard. Where did she know him from?

"Well," he began. Rose recognized his accent- it was similar to hers, with maybe just the hint of a Scottish brogue. Oh good. He wasn't about to leap out at them or something, then. You didn't get nutters with an accent like that. Or maybe you did...

"I'm sort of... lost."

The man's voice became more clear, more confident. The Doctor was squinting at him, screwing up his eyes as though he had a headache.

"...And you see, I couldn't help noticing yourself and your-your- girlfriend-"

"She's not my girlfriend," the Doctor snapped automatically. Rose gave a tiny sigh, and the stranger seemed to notice this and risked something that looked like a smile in her direction.

"Oh. Well. Anyway. I'm lost. Do you know your way around here?"

"Nope," came the blunt reply. The Doctor turned around, taking Rose's arm and walking in the opposite direction again.

"Sure?" the stranger asked.

"Positive," the Doctor replied.

"Really sure?" he asked, still following him.

"Really sure. As sure as the pinstripes on your suit are pinstripes and not beetles, or maggots, or-"

"Doctor!" Rose protested, squirming. "Don't. I fancied noodles, too."

"You did?" he asked. "Sorry. Anyway, you know how it is. Just go away, would you?"

The stranger looked as though he were going to agree for a moment and actually turned to go the other way, before stopping. "No," he replied.

"Sod off!"

"No."

The Doctor rolled his eyes and took a step towards the weirdo in pinstripes, raising his arms so that he could just shove the man away. The stranger backed off.

"Don't touch me."

The Doctor stared. Rose smiled. It was odd to see him like this, so cagey, so defensive... over her?

"What?"

"I said, don't touch me," he repeated, standing his ground.

"And why not?" The threatening Northern toned Doctor asked. Whilst his voice seemed to be calm, his face gave away the anger that he felt. He was scowling, his eyes a blazing, a vivid electric blue. The other man gulped but held his ground.

If Rose were in this stranger's shoes, she'd leg it as quickly as possible. Preferably in the other direction. She'd outrun Linford Christie!

"Just don't touch me!"

The Doctor's anger was obviously about to blow. Rose saw it in the way he seemed to relax. She couldn't help feeling sorry for the man that was about to feel the full force of his wrath.

"You come here, follow us around, generally annoy us and then you have the cheek to say-" He took a breath then spoke in a seemingly helium fuelled way. "Don't touch me". And THEN expect me to listen to you!"

He threw his hands up in the air. "Why should I anyway?"

The pinstriped man sighed loudly and muttered something inaudible to himself. Rose thought that she caught the words "I wish I didn't have to do this" before his eyes flickered towards her. He rubbed his face and looked up.

"I know who you are."

The Doctor sighed. He put his hand into the pocket and brought out the paper that Rose recognised as the psychic paper. The other man smiled and shook his head, as though amused, then sobered up when he looked properly.

The Doctor was putting the paper away so it was only Rose who noticed the man's lips mouth the words, "Psychic paper." Rose looked up to the Doctor. The Doctor smiled sarcastically to the stranger.

"I trust that it is all settled now?"

The question was calm, but Rose didn't like the underlying tone of 'Back off'.

"I suppose it is," the pinstriped man replied. All the bravado had been washed away from him as he looked to Rose. She found herself entranced in his gaze once more.

"Yes, it is."

The Doctor smiled properly and looked at Rose.

"Chips?"

The spell was broken. She looked away once again. Lunatic. What was she doing, getting involved with this man, however good-looking she thought him?

"Who could refuse an offer of chips?"

Rose smiled and walked off arm-in-arm with the Doctor, taking one last look over her shoulder at the man. He was still where they had left him, his mouth open, his eyes filled with unshed tears, though Rose couldn't understand why. He put his arms around himself as if bracing himself to do something.

It was when they were at the end of the street that he finally spoke. It was a loud call, a war-like call, as though its owner was used to such combat.

"Time-Lord."

------------------------------------------------------------------

The Doctor turned slowly, his shoulders squaring as though preparing himself to run into the Lion's Den.

"Rose," he said quietly, his tone different, a tone she'd never heard before. It was one of resigned sadness and pure annoyance, abruptness- and was that almost hope?

"Yes?" she asked him, unlinking her arm, staring at him and taking a step back, mesmerised now by how he stood, how he looked at her, as though she were the most special thing in the world to him.

"I have something to sort out with our friend here," he replied, giving her that cocky grin again. "I won't be long."

She frowned. Something wasn't right.

"But..." she began, putting out a hand. He shook it off impatiently.

"Go," he told her. "Get me some chips too, like. You know, plenty of vinegar. Can't stand that salty stuff you're all so fond of!"

She nodded, almost against her will. "Yes."

He smiled at her. "Fantastic."

As he hugged her, she briefly caught a glimpse of the suited man, who's tears finally shed themselves and he just raised his hands lazily to wipe them away, as though any fight he'd once had had gone.

"See you soon!" she smiled, taking a step back and rounding the corner, pausing once she was sure he couldn't see her.

"Who are you?" she heard the Doctor, her Doctor, ask.

It may have been a trick of the oh-so-still evening air, but she could have sworn she heard the other man reply, "The Doctor."

Written by Let'sDoTheTimeWarpAgain and Scout Girl

BETAed by Scout Girl and Let'sDoTheTimeWarpAgain

Now if you review this, we'll do more chapters, Deal?


	5. What Was And What Will

Sorry that this has taken along time but we hope you like it. We don't own Doctor Who, but we do own

"The Stealers or Dreams", "Winner takes All", "The Resurrection Casket", "The Stone Rose","The Feast of the Drowned" "The Year of The Intelligent Tigers", "Dark Progeny" and "Superior Beings", a dalek poster, a dalek keyring,"The Curse of Fenrir" on DVD, series one on DVD, "Doctor Who Top Trumps", The audio CD's of "The Resurrection Casket", "The Stone Rose" and "The Feast of the Drowned", "Mark of the Rani" book, "The Moon Base" book, "Doctor Who and the Dinosaurs" book and many other Doctor Who related things but not Doctor Who.

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The two Time Lords, who were the same Time Lord, mirrored each other in the dark street, standing with their feet apart, hands on their hips. Yet they were complete opposites 

Converses opposite Doc Martins. Black jeans opposite pinstripes. Dark green jumper opposite a shirt and tie. And more pinstripes. Leather jacket opposite a trench coat. Mouth held tight opposite a mouth that constantly kept moving. A prominent nose opposite a nose with freckles and tears running down the side. The large ears opposite small ears. Short, shaved dark brown nearly black hair opposite big, brown hair which would never tame into obedience so he never tried, just ran his hands though it.

Two pairs of eyes. One blue and one brown. One dry, one filled with tears.

Both with the knowledge of the worlds in them.

It was the leather jacketed Time lord to speak first.

"You say you're the Doctor...?"

"I am the Doctor!" the suited man replied.

An eyebrow was raised. The mouth twitched slightly. "Next regeneration?"

"After you, yes. I'm Mister Number Ten, you see. Like Downing Street, you know? Remember Downing Street? And-"

"I'm not stupid!"

The suited man grimaced and took a deep breath, falling silent as the stranger continued.

"How can I be sure? You could be ANYONE pretending to be me! Enough people on earth know, UNIT for one! Who are you?"

A lesser man would have took to his heels and ran at the stance of the other man. It was aggressive. It was agitated. It screamed anger and defiance.

_But why should I be afraid of myself?_

"Ask me a question that only we know the answer to. Go on? If I can answer it then all jolly good. I'm you! You're me. Or you will be, anyway. Come on. I even remember this. Snap-"

Oh, fabulous. He was going to regenerate into someone permanently afflicted with verbal diarrhoea.

"What am I meant to ask you?"

"Well..."

_Tell him everything..._

"I'll tell you some of the things that I know. The last High Lady President of Gallifrey was Romanadvotrelundar, remember her? Of course you do. Well, you should. I do. Anyhow. That was when we had teeth, curls, a long scarf and a fondness for jelly babies. I still like jelly babies now. You do too! You have a secret stash of them underneath the Victorian kitchen -with the dodgy painting of Mr Number Eight done by that American nutter- sink. And don't deny it."

**Does he... do I... Will I... ever pause for breath?**

Still he continued. This was actually getting quite amusing, he had to make himself realize who he was.

Mr Number Nine pushed away the mention of Romana, but then UNIT might have known that, he might of told them, not likely but perhaps, oh and Chris Parsons he knew about Romana, after the business with Shada. So this man didn't have to be him.

"Our nickname at the Prydon Academy was Theta Sigma. My... our granddaughter was Susan. Susan, who..." The man took a deep breath and then started again, "The Time War, I could tell you all about it."

**TOO FAR!**

Oh God. It was him alright, then.

"Stop!" he ordered commandingly, blue eyes blazing. Best to solve the issue and stop being haunted by the ghost of Christmas Future in York. It was hard to believe that sometime soon- or not so soon if he could help it- he would become this man, and he would come back and...

"There must be a reason why you're here!" he exclaimed arrogantly, folding his arms and leaning back, a smirk on his face. "Only the Time Lords could do this..."

He gestured with his hands at the two of them and the space around them, to the evening stars beginning to glint in the sky and to the other man. Who he would be... why was he crying? Did sorrow haunt him everywhere, or something?

"Look why are you- I- we here?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, his arms gesturing wildly. "And why are you crying?"

The other Doctor's face was downcast, a tear dropping miserably from his cheek as his lips formed one word.

"Rose."

He felt his stomach drop unpleasantly at the other man's answer. The bottom seemed to go out of it, and suddenly, he was falling.

Falling into darkness with nothing to grip onto, no matter how hard he tried.

Days of doom and gloom. His worst fear come true.

"Is she dead?"

The question was out before he realized what he'd said and he kicked himself, because he knew he couldn't do anything about this now. He wasn't allowed to tell himself the future.

So the fact that he got an answer startled him.

"No. As good as."

Oh, so he'd talk in riddles too.

Pushing aside the horrible feeling in his stomach, he frowned.

"You know you can't tell me what happens, don't-"

"Of course I do!" the suited man's reply was defensive. He could see himself in himself. Scary.

He raised his head. "This is going to sound stupid. So stupid. But look after her."

Himself or not himself, this was silly.

"What do you take me for?"

"Let her know how you- how we- feel. Felt. Will feel. Still feel."

For the first time, a look of fear crossed the younger incarnation's face. He was no longer a mighty, sneering man who would rid the world of all of the scum. He was a confused, lost little boy who'd seen too many things in too many lives.

"I-I-"

"You'll regret it."

"But-"

"Doctor! There you are!"

A joyous shout from around the corner broke through the conversation between the two- last? Only? - Gallifreyans.

Rose skipped around the aforementioned corner, clutching three cartons containing hot, greasy chips. It made the older Doctor feel sick to look at them, at her being so alive.

"Rose!"

She grinned at the pair, turning her head to the younger Doctor and tilting her head to one side.

"I thought we could all go for a walk together? Down the riverside? It's only around the corner. And they've got people. Buskin' an' stuff. Please?"

She put a hand on his shoulder, smiling at the other Doctor (though she didn't know it yet, he realized with a pang). "You could come too. You seem alright. Good deeds for the day an' all that? Please?"

Both Doctors nodded simultaneously, one aware of how little time he'd probably got left with her before he regenerated and then before... she left, the other wondering how he'd wasted that time so badly.

How could they stop her from doing what she wanted when time was so short?

She was special. She was Rose.

"Of course."

The younger Doctor, or Mister Number Nine as the older one thought of him, linked hands with Rose. And though it was a simple, normal gesture, it broke the older Doctor's hearts all over again. Because she was now his past. And he would waste their future together.

* * *

Written by Let'sDoTheTimeWarpAgain and Scout Girl 

BETAed by Scout Girl and Let'sDoTheTimeWarpAgain

Please review, it makes us feel very happy and we will write quicker if you review


	6. Tears at Dusk

Merry Christmas and a Happy Who Year!

We still don't own Doctor Who but we do own this story so please enjoy (and sorry about the angst)

Dancing with the Past

* * *

The youngest Doctor and Rose walked ahead of the eldest Doctor. 

He stood there, lost; looking at Rose's and his previous selves entwined hands with an unreadable expression.

Was it possible that he was jealous of HIMSELF?

Maybe this was a bad idea. Even though he had to go through with it.

As though sensing the battle in his head, Rose looked back at him, her face softening in sympathy as she took in his wet eyelashes, bloodshot eyes and downright downcast appearance. The one of a man who'd held things in for too long.

"You coming?" she asked, sympathy evident one more.

"Can't be that bad can it?" she asked, then frowned. Of course it could. She thought of her mum, to whom it seemed the world ended when her Tesco Bag For Life lasted only a couple of weeks.

"What happened?"

The Doctor looked startled. What could he say to her, to the Rose that he would fall in love with- To the Rose that so soon would be a universe away from him?

So near and so far.

He opened his mouth soundlessly, and then closed it again.

By this point Rose had whispered something into the ear of her Doctor and let go of his hand. She gave him the chips and then she walked over to him, this man who was grieving for her though she couldn't know it.

Rose's Doctor looked at him and suddenly felt so sorry for himself. Not that that was anything new, but he had hoped that he would be happier in his next self. The body he was looking at, the Doctor- him- seemed in despair.

At least he had Rose, and could treat her, tell her how special she was, make her laugh.

It seemed that Mr Ten would have to live without her- or maybe someone else, though how he was acting...

"Stop guessing your future!" he hissed, clenching his fists, knowing that he couldn't cope without Rose and hoping that in the future he could, impossible how it seemed.

It didn't look like he could. He gave a nod to Rose and indicated with his head where he was going to stand, against a lamppost, looking out along the river and wandered off.

The Doctor watched his previous self walk away and felt grateful.

He was easily embarrassed when emotional- especially in front of himself.

He was drawn out of his misery by Rose rubbing his back, feeling his skin tingle.

"What happened?" she asked kindly.

His hearts ached. She just wanted to help, she was like that. And that would be the end of her and him.

"Urr," he began, rubbing his chin.

For a man so often endowed or afflicted- endowed, he liked to think- with verbal diarrhoea, he still didn't know what to say.

"You don't have to say," Rose said hurriedly, in case it offended him to be asked.

No. He would say. That was what he came here to do.

He would tell her the truth, omitting certain information- obviously- but still to tell her the truth. He always told Rose the truth. He always HAD.

"I...I...I had a friend," He started, feeling the feeling of the tears he'd tried to hold back all through Donna's questioning and the weeks afterwards rise again, because of **her.**

Rose felt sorry for the man with tears rolling down his face.

She didn't even know him, but felt for some reason like she owed it to this man to comfort him.

"Well...my friend and I," he gulped, steeling himself.

"My friend...and I: we travelled around a bit. We went to New-"

He coughed briefly. "New York" He smiled at the memory of the apple grass, then the smile fell. Not those flashbacks again.

"That was where...where I fell in love with her."

Rose smiled at this romance. She loved romance just as much as romance loved being romance. But she could tell it did not have a happy ending.

"Take your time," she soothed, rubbing his back again.

"I had loved her before we went to New York." He swallowed, wishing he could go back to his ninth self and tell her everything. "But there it became plain that I was in love."

Rose put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. He smiled softly, sadly.

"I could never get up the nerve to tell her that I was in love with her, because I thought she didn't love me. I mean, why would she? She'd gone for the pretty boys in the past. There was no way she'd love a guilty old beggar like me."

He gave a small sob but continued telling Rose the story of her future.

"And then I took her home for a visit and...Something happened...and she- she- she had to leave."

The last few words came out in such a rush that it took Rose a moment to decipher them, by which time he was sobbing.

Rose rubbed his shoulder. What could she do to help him?

The Doctor's mind was racing: how could he phrase the next bit without the obvious words-TARDIS, supernova, universes?

That time in the parallel universe, with the Cybermen and... Rose's phone! That would do it.

"I...I managed to phone her for the last time...and she told me...she told me she loved me."

He bit back a sob.

"And...and...I was about to tell her that I loved her too when...the line... went dead"

The Doctor sobbed loudly thinking back to that time on the beach with Rose and those final words they spoke.

_"I...I love you!"_

_"Quite right too."_

_A smile._

_"And I suppose... if it's the last time... Rose Tyler..."_

She tapped the man gently on the shoulder, unaware that he was reliving her goodbye to him.

"I've got a phone- you could phone her."

The Doctor shook his head.

"I...her...she...it's gone"

How could he ring her? It would be ringing the same number as the phone itself. Drat her for keeping the same sim card.

Rose took this to mean that he couldn't phone this woman.

He was sobbing again so Rose did the one thing she could think of, the one thing that her mother had done for her countless times- she pulled him to his feet and enveloped him in a hug.

He tightened his arms around her and held her like nothing else in the universe mattered anymore- because to him it didn't- and he was so happy and sad at once, and he was crying into her shoulder- the very last time he'd get to hug her, and he was crying, and she stood there rubbing his back, being his rock as she always had but never would be again. She was whispering words that might comfort him and wishing that this man could find the woman that he loved and could hold her as tightly as he was holding her now.

If only she could somehow make it better for him. If she could just get hold of his heart and make it whole again, make it work once more.

But how could she? She was just a person- a person on the outside and she could never be the glue to piece this man's heart together. Never.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling it only right to apologise for the folly of the universe. God, if only she could stop this sort of thing from happening.

He moved so quickly that she was startled, and almost went off balance.

"Don't apologise! Oh, please don't. It's not your fault. It's never your fault. I told her to stay with the family, and then she wouldn't! She came back to me, and I didn't have the heart to say no to her again. I'd already left her once, you see," he whispered, lowering his tone slightly and glancing fearfully at the brooding Nine, who was staring at the river massively, leaning upon it with a cynical expression.

His voice was becoming very like the water, Rose noted. Soft and quiet, and hushed- but fast- a crazed torrent of words and regret and guilt and aching love.

"I should have sent her back! Why didn't I send her back! It wouldn't have been as bad! She could've stayed with her families and played happy family, and I'd have been fine- oh God. I'm blaming her for it now!" he exclaimed wildly, gazing around him. "What am I doing here? Why'm I here, of all places? Why'm I-"

But he caught himself just in time, slowing his breathing down slightly. He deserved this.

"I can't blame her. If I blame her it's all wrong. If I blame her- no. I'm not blaming her. It was my fault. I should've sent her back. And then this wouldn't have happened- well- it would- but I let myself hope!"

He ran his hands through his hair, pacing wildly.

"It's just like the rest. Susan. Sarah Jane. Romana, for goodness sake. Ace. Jack! They all end up gone, and I promise them forever and they promise it and- I LOVE HER!"

With that he slumped, exhausted, onto the bench, leaning forwards and putting his head in his hands in a depressed manner.

Rose had stood quite still all through the monologue, somehow realising that if she interrupted then she'd make things worse.

It was a lot for her to take in. Too much for her human brain to process at once, she seemed to realise.

She pulled her jacket more tightly around herself and walked to the bench, taking her time, not sitting directly next to him in case he wanted some space.

It had to be put into perspective, she realised. Make it seem as though she was in this situation.

Well. Someone she'd hate to lose.

Her mum?

She bit her lip involuntarily. Maybe.

Mickey?

Oh, he was special, certainly. But that was her old life. This was her new life.

Her new life...

The Doctor? What if she lost him?

She shivered, not from the wind but from the coldness sinking into her stomach, as though she'd swallowed a vat of ice cream on a boiling hot day and the chill wouldn't unfreeze.

And suddenly she knew how this man felt.

"I understand," she whispered, extending a shaking hand to him and pursing her lips, moving closer to him, for even in his despair she could be comforted- comforted by this complete stranger!

Wordlessly, he put an arm around her, huddling into her like a child did to its mother.

How long they sat like that, both had no idea of. Perhaps it was a mere hour, or maybe longer- days, weeks- enough time for hundreds of people to pass and stare inquiringly at the two whose cheeks and eyes were reddened by the salty tracks of their tears, and enough time for the leather jacketed person to seem to draw some comfort from the odd scene too, stopping to chat to a drunken American man with too many men and women trailing after him to stay long, and to draw a glimmer of recognition from that odd-but-quite-attractive suited man with the girl when he passed with the entourage.

Perhaps it wasn't that long at all- it just felt like it- yet both knew, and both broke apart simultaneously.

And both were comforted by each other's presence, as one had been in the past, and one would be in just a few months' time.

* * *

Written by Scout Girl and Let'sDoTheTimeWarpAgain 

BETAed by Let'sDoTheTimeWarpAgain and Scout Girl

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